Taming Fire by Aaron Pogue Page B

Claighan to see if he was still awake. He always was. He never answered when I spoke to him.
    I tried to think, to understand what had happened. Apparently Claighan had not won his race. The king had called him a traitor and conspirator to rebellion. I had heard Claighan speak of the king in less than glowing terms, but it had never seemed beyond the scope of an Academy Master's pride. This was something else.
    Rebellion. I closed my eyes and thought of Cooper's commission to join the Guard. I thought of regiments disbanded to be replaced with Academy wizards. The king's army had only one serious engagement at the moment: the constant, quiet threat of rebellion in the Ardain. But if they were taking on new Guards....
    I raised my voice across the small cabin. "There's a rebellion, isn't there?" Claighan didn't even seem to hear me. I looked down at my hands. "There's a war."
    He gave me no answer, but I didn't need one. I had heard more of the conversation with Edwin. They'd spoken of a wizard tempted by power, going over to the duke. That would be Duke Brant. If he were involved, if he had access to a battle wizard of his own....
    I let my head fall back against the wall of the carriage, and felt the same distant, disconnected shock that seemed to have wrapped itself around Claighan. A traitor, Academy-trained. I would have killed him by my own hand. One man, probably some soft nobleman's son swollen on the pride of his own power and lusting for more, and he had cost me whatever future Claighan had been willing to offer me.
    I opened my eyes and looked across the cabin. "What was his name?" I asked.
    Claighan raised his head. He met my eyes. "Lareth," he said. "And he has cost us everything."
    Before I could get another answer from him, he let his head sink down onto his chest again and descended back into his toneless muttering. I tried to draw him out, tried to learn more, but that was as much as he would give me. A name. Lareth. I felt my lips peeling back in a snarl, intended as much for the king's quick temper, for Othin's petty rage, even for Cooper's sneering disdain.
    And now...now we would go into hiding. Not in the princely luxury of the capitol, but in some quiet little village across the channel, or perhaps in the hostile halls of the Academy. Claighan would pull strings, and Edwin would do what he could. He seemed to have considerable influence. And while they strove to return to the king's good graces, I would play my part, too. I would study under Claighan. He could teach me, if I could just draw him out of his dark reverie. I would practice the sword. I would be ready next time, to show the king I was worth sponsoring.
    It wouldn't be easy, and I knew enough of the treacherous games noblemen played to know it wouldn't be quick. But I could wait. This still offered me greater opportunities than I could have hoped for herding sheep in some quiet Terrailles township. It might be slower, but that could even help me. Things had been moving awfully fast.
    The more I thought about it, the calmer I became. My heartbeat slowed, my brow smoothed, and gradually the knots in my shoulders began to relax. At some point during the night I drifted asleep. I slumped back into the corner and let my head fall against the polished wood because the bench was too narrow to stretch out on. The shaking of the carriage wall bruised my head, but I eventually ignored even that, and sank into a shallow sleep. For hours more we rolled on, my dreams constantly tinged with the little sense impressions of the night journey. Finally a coarse, low shout interrupted one of my dreams. The carriage jolted to a stop and I sat up, looking around. A thin gray light suffused the cabin, starlight and some stray beams from the moon cutting in through the curtains. I yawned and stretched, grimacing at the stiffness and pain of half a night's journey.
    I heard the same voice growling through the night and realized it was not the voice of a friendly